


What It Takes to Be a Freckled Hero

by SammiButtonz



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Dorks, Dorks in Love, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Sex, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, French Jean Kirstein, Friendship/Love, Horse Jokes, Jokes, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein-centric, Memory Loss, Past Child Abuse, Temporary Amnesia, Waltzing, goofballs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammiButtonz/pseuds/SammiButtonz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, um… I’ve always been weird with my feelings and relationships and shit like that. I was never one for love stories, but lately I’ve been having an urge to write one. Well, a novel about this guy I’ve kind of fallen for—okay, this guy I have fallen really fucking hard for… His name is Marco Bodt.<br/>He has changed my entire life.<br/>This is our story…</p><p>Author Jean Kirschtein moves to a new city to find himself wandering into Trost Library on a daily basis. He has his eyes set on something, or rather, someone, far better than your average book... The more time spent with Marco Bodt leads Jean to believe that he has always known the freckled angel from the very start--and perhaps he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Freckled Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my kind gentlepeople! I have been dying to do a JeanXMarco fanfic for so long now, so I'm happy to say the time has finally come to write one! I thought the idea of Jean as an author would be fun, considering I'm a new author and have a gist of what it's like to be one.  
> As a side note, I'd like to add that Jean's present day self is telling us his and Marco's story, but the fanfic will be taking place in the past (his more current past). Whenever Jean talks about something using the present tense (for example, his apartment), that means it is still the same as it was in the past. Remember, he's telling you what has already happened and what has already been done... I hope that wasn't all too confusing!  
> Anyway, I hope you all like the fic!! Now, go read and enjoy yourselves! <3 Thank you!

So, um… I’ve always been weird with my feelings and relationships and shit like that. I was never one for love stories (unless I was secretly reading them in the privacy of my home, maybe), but lately I’ve been having an urge to write one. Well, a novel about this guy I’ve kind of fallen for— _okay_ , this guy I have fallen _really_ fucking hard for…

I guess I could start with an introduction… The name’s Jean Kirschtein. I’m French…if that’s even important? I have short, light ash-brown hair and an undercut. I have light brown eyes, too. I’m twenty-three years old and have been writing since my junior year in high school. I’m now an author for Trost Publishing Press and own my own apartment with great views of the city. I fucking worked my _ass_ off for the place and am proud to call it mine. I hate my parents, but am sort of okay with my older sister Amelia. We talk sometimes. My parents, on the other hand, are an entirely different story. They’re walking, breathing, pieces of rich shits... And finally, most importantly, I have fallen in love with a guy named Marco Bodt.

He has changed my entire life.

This is our story…

 

*****

 

It had been two weeks since I moved into my apartment. As soon as I finished high school, I busted out of my parents’ shitty _crystal palace_ of hell and moved into the next city over. In my senior year of high school, my first book was published by Trost Publishing Press. By the time I got my diploma, I was already a working man with enough bucks to buy a sweet ass apartment in the city. For some reason people really liked my short novel, Punk Kid’s Breakout… Heh. Rebellion at its finest.

Back in high school, I was kind of a crazy fuck (in all the best ways, baby). I rocked parties, told people off, and had balls of steel. Over the years I’ve mellowed out though, and don’t really party much anymore. I do occasionally, but it’s become a rarity. I’d much rather be writing some macabre horror story about titans eating people and crazy shit like that, then get wasted. But what do I know?

Here’s the deal though; I was an undercover author. Well, something of that sort. I didn’t really mind telling people that I’m an author, but I did strive to keep my life at home somewhat private. That was why, for the longest time, I had a pin name. It solved all my first world problems.

John Kay was the name I chose to use. I figured I’d use the American pronunciation of my French name, then go with _Kay_ , rather than roll with the boring version of _K_. That and the name made me sound like some trashy millionaire that shits out his own money and gold.

Anyway, I had gotten tired of unpacking and decided I needed some fresh air. I was eager to check out the new city I was dealing with.

I left my apartment and took the elevator to the bottom floor. A woman with strawberry blonde hair sat at the front desk and waved goodbye to me as I left. I hesitantly waved back, but kept my face somber so she wouldn’t get any big ideas, though she was kind of cute.

I walked around for a while that night and actually liked how cozy the streets were. They were painted warm colors and even the street lamps gave off a warm vibe. To this day, the streets are still the same and haven’t changed much.

Along the way, I found a library and walked inside. Since it was a little chilly out, I was more than happy to find that the library was warm. When inside, I looked around a bit, exploring the books categorized under adventure. I was searching the shelves for a good read, when I saw someone sitting at the end of the aisle. There were empty tables a few shelves away, so…why wasn’t he sitting there? The guy had his nose in a book and read contently to himself. His light brown eyes scanned the lines thoroughly, flipping the pages from time to time.

I was looking through this one book when I glanced back over at the man again. A gentle smile rose to his freckled face the more he’d read. Occasionally, he’d run his fingers through his short black hair that was parted down the middle. He seemed happy.

 _I wonder what he’s reading_ , I thought before I grabbed a few more books. Struggling to pick the lucky winner, I decided I’d read a chapter from each book, then choose which one I’d checkout.

I glanced over at the empty tables and stared at them a moment before walking to one end of the aisle, opposite from where the other man sat peacefully enjoying his book. I plopped down on the ground and sprawled my legs out across the wood. From the corner of my eye, I saw the freckled man stop reading to look over at me.

“There are tables a few selves away, if you’d like. I’m sure they’re a lot more comfortable.” His voice was both kind and thoughtful.

I looked up from my books and locked eyes with him. His light orbs were wide with surprise. And at that moment, of _all_ the things I could’ve said, I answered, “Tables are too mainstream.”

 _Smooth Jean, smooth, you dipshit._    

To my surprise, the freckled man heartily laughed in response before shrugging a shoulder. “Suit yourself.” His eyes traveled back down to his book then, leaving mine behind.

That day, something in me stirred a little bit.

I left the library an hour later with some book called, Jodie Jack’s Test, too shy to say goodbye to the man on the other side of the aisle—and I’m not fucking shy. The hell.

 

*****

            It was around nine when I made it back home. I walked in to a very anxious Miniature Pincher jumping for attention. Her tail wagged so fast that I thought she’d take off flying if it went any faster. I reached down and scooped her up into my arms.

            “Gracious, Lucy. Calm your little ass down. Daddy’s home now, alright?” She licked my face a few times before I carried her into the kitchen. I set her down and poured some dog food into her bowl. I was feeling a little generous that night so I cooked her up an egg and scrambled it for her.

            “Who’s Daddy’s favorite, spoiled little girl? You are!” I scrapped the egg into her bowl and earned a well-deserved bark from her.

            While I watched her eat, I became hungry myself so I made myself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV. As usual, nothing was really on, so I dozed off into space while I ate. I thought about many things. I thought about my old city and how I kind of missed my friends; I thought about unpacking; I thought about the freckled guy at the library; I thought about my new apartment and how I really liked it.

            My living room, dining room, and kitchen are all in the same open space. Each section is a fairly good size. The whole back wall of my apartment is made of glass so you can see some of the greatest spots in the city from there. There’s a nice sized balcony with turf in one corner so Lucy can do her business (then I would either have to wash the turf down or flush her poops down the toilet). The back wall in my bedroom is the same; it’s made of glass and has a balcony that is smaller than the one in the main room. Anyway, my bedroom is pretty big and has its own master bath. It’s painted beige with olive green accents. I have a queen sized bed in the center of the room with an olive colored comforter. Right across from it is a wooden dresser that matches the Mahogany floors. Against the same wall as my dresser is a small sofa perpendicular to the glass wall. There’s a coffee table in front of the sofa and a bookcase against the same wall as my bed. The space is very cozy. There’s an office in the room next to my bedroom that is painted in shades of blue and is very calming. That was where I did most of my writing. Next to the office is another door leading to another bathroom painted a pale green color. In the kitchen is a pantry closet and laundry room; they’re pretty good sizes. Overall, my apartment made me happy. I was pumped to get everything unpacked so I’d feel even more at home.

            When I finished my bowl of cereal, I sat it down on the coffee table and turned off the TV. I picked up the book I had checked out earlier from the library and started reading it. I read the first ten chapters and it was pretty good so far. This teenage boy named Jodie graduated high school early and is traveling the world with these mad scientists to see if his hypothesis can be proven true in all these different countries. It’s an interesting read.

            After reading ten chapters though, I was ready to call it a night. I turned off all the lights and motioned for Lucy to follow. I walked into my bedroom, threw on a pair of flannels then curled up in bed under my comforter. Lucy ran over to her dog bed and ducked under her blanket, falling asleep instantly. Sometimes I wished I was a fucking dog. They had things easy— _too_ easy.

            I fell asleep half an hour later.

 

*****

            I woke up the next day feeling like shit. All night I had dreamt of my parents; voices had boomed, things had been mindlessly thrown, my face had been punched purple. I hated those fucking nightmares. They were the worst.

            I just wanted to sleep off the pain and pay no mind to the assholes in the next city over—but I got up anyway. I got dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a black tee and sweater. I decided I was going to do something damn proactive before I’d start brainstorming more ideas for a new book to write.

           “Princess, would you like to come with me?” I asked the big-eyed Pincher as I grabbed her harness and leash. She barked a few times and chased after me. I pulled her dog carrier from the walk-in closet in my master bath, then worked on getting her ready.

 

            I held Lucy’s carrier on one shoulder as I walked around the city with my earbuds in. I stopped in Trost’s Deli Market and picked up a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. I got a small coffee, too. I walked to the nearest park and sat my food and drink down on a bench so I could take Lucy out of her carrier. I put my arm through the loop of her leash and let her lay in the grass while I sat on the bench. I ate my sandwich and drank my coffee in peace.

            Only when I looked up did I realize that library was across the street. It was very appealing to the eye, or maybe it was just me who thought that. It was a two story tall brick building with a bay window on both the first and second floor overlooking the park. There was a pot of flowers on a shelf under the window next to the entrance. Outside on a chalkboard were the newest books you could checkout. There was a section dedicated to the most popular books of the month, too. It was cute, very cozy. _Unfortunately_ ,I’ve become a sucker to all things cute. I blame it on Lucy. The little fucker grabbed me by the heart the moment I had seen her at the pet shelter. She’s my baby girl, always will be.

            While I was staring at the library, I saw the same freckled guy from the night before walk up to it. He wore a gentle smile across his face. His eyes sparkled as people passing waved to him.

_Someone’s popular, huh?_

            He walked into the library, leaving me gawking at the door. Without much thought, I leapt to my feet, threw my food away in a nearby trashcan, then collected a happy Lucy into my arms. “I’m sorry baby girl. Just a little while longer. I’ll bring you to the dog park afterwards and let you run around all you’d like.” I placed her back into her carrier, then took off my sweater, keeping her little head hidden with it. I then walked across the street and entered the library—because my legs decided they wanted to enter on their own accord.

            Damn legs.

            When I walked in, a woman with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes glanced at me, then returned back to her work. _Fucking rude._ Ignoring her back, I walked over to the adventure section. I glanced down the aisle, but noticed the freckled guy wasn’t there. I looked around the first floor, but couldn’t find him. Why I was looking for him, I don’t know. I just felt like it.

            I went upstairs and when I did, I caught sight of a poster taped to one of the bookshelves. One of my favorite books was being made into a movie.

            “Wow… It’s really come far, huh?” Me being amazed was an understatement. To see such a great book being made into a movie overwhelmed me. I felt happy for the author. I bet they were excited. I would’ve been too if it was my book up on that poster. I hoped the movie would live up to the book. I really did.

            “Amazing, right? I’m really looking forward to it. It’s one of my favorite books.” A voice appeared beside me. I jumped out of my daze to discover Freckles standing beside me. I felt something in me squeeze.

            _The fuck was that?_

“Yeah, it was one of my personal favorites, too. I’m glad it’s gotten the recognition it deserves,” I heaved a sigh. “I hope Hollywood doesn’t butcher it.”

            “I hope so too. It’d be a shame if they did,” Freckles turned, his smile worsening as he stretched a hand out to me. “I’m Marco Bodt, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

            “Jean Kirschtein … Nice to meet ‘cha.” I took his hand and shook it. I was a bit surprised to see that he was taller than me, though it was only by an inch or two. Compared to me, he was broad shouldered with a stockier build. One look at his face told me he was a gentle giant.

            He still is one.

            “You came here last night, too. Do you read a lot?” He asked.

 _Uh, yeah…I need to, to be able to write._ Don’t be a snobby asshole, Jean. He doesn’t know that, you dipshit.

            I settled for a simple nod.

            “Cool. I love reading, too. What’s your favorite genre?”

            “Uh, I guess action and horror… I don’t know. I go back and forth. You?” Good Jean. Keep at it. You’re socializing just fine—well, _sort of_.

            “Probably adventure and romance, though action and horror is good, too.”

            _Romance? Seriously? A big guy like you reads shit like that?_

“You like romance?” I couldn’t hold back the smirk that twitched onto my face.

            “Y-yeah… I find them endearing,” A blush spread across his freckled nose and cheeks. “You don’t?”

            “Not really. Anything that makes me want to vomit rainbows and flowers isn’t really my thing.” _Unless there’s a dog like Lucy in it, then I might make an exception._

               The two of us talked for a while after that. We sat on the bay window and brought up some of the greatest books we have read, along with some of the worst. As we were talking, Lucy decided she wanted to make her presence known, so she popped her head out from under my sweater.

            “A dog?” Marco’s eyes lit up. It was as if they started glowing.

            “Yep. This is my baby girl, Lucy. Lucy, say hello.” Lucy held out a paw to Marco. He took it gently and laughed bubbly. It was fucking _adorable_.

            _Jean… No homo._

            Marco shook my baby’s paw and told the dog, “Hello, Lucy! It’s nice to meet you.” She licked many sloppy kisses to his hand and crawled out of the bag and onto his lap. My heart swelled at the sight. My little girl liked him— _actually_ liked him. She wasn’t friendly to everyone she’d meet. Actually, she didn’t like a vast majority of the people we’d run into…but for some reason she liked this guy.

          “My younger siblings and I have always wanted a dog, but my parents are allergic so we could never get one.”

            “You have siblings?”

            “Yeah, I have a little sister and brother,” he grinned proudly, “Do you?”

            “An older sister,” I answered. I didn’t really want to stay on the topic to long. I wasn’t ready to talk about my family with someone I had only met the day before. “So… I’m going to the dog park after I leave here. Would you like to tag along? I mean, Lucy seems attached already…and I don’t really mind.” I asked it. I didn’t think I’d be able to—but I did. Whoa.

            “I’d love to, really I would, but I have to go to work soon. The dog park is a little far from where my job is.”

            Disappointment… Oh I felt its burn.

            “Oh, that’s alright. Maybe some other time.”

_Some other time? Really Jean? What if he doesn’t want there to be ‘another time’?_

Marco’s light eyes broadened. _See? You spooked him!_ Then a warm smile formed along his freckled face. _Oh… Or maybe you didn’t._ He breathed a big breath of air, then let it out. That only made his smile wider. “I’d really like that, Jean.”

I felt my ears and neck burn. My stomach did flips. The way he said my name was…was _beautiful_. He said it as if I was the most precious thing in the whole world. I mean, he probably didn’t do it purposely, but…

_“You’re one of a kind, Jean. Truly special to me. If anything, always remember that.”_

A familiar voice came to mind. One I have always loved, but struggled to remember. It was that of a younger child. I can’t remember their face, but I have never forgotten what he had told me. On a good night, I’d dream of nothing but his words. I’d see nothing, but hear _everything_.

I felt special for the first time in a _long_ time… Truly special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So......what did you all think? I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to ask! I wouldn't mind answering.  
> Thanks so much for the support! <3  
> Chapter 2 coming soon! c: Stay tuned!


	2. A Clear Yet Foggy Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Ideas for New Book:
> 
> . Jean dreams...  
> . Jean is confused...  
> . Jean finds Marco very familiar...  
> . Jeanie-Beanie and Marcotholomew/Freck-Specks   
> . Jean and Marco bond...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks around corner*   
> Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for the support; it really means the world and back. <3   
> I hope you all like the chapter two of, What It Takes to Be a Freckled Hero! c: Enjoy!

Life hadn’t been sunny and bright. There were no flowers and happiness waiting for me. The only flowers and happiness shone in the eyes of a person I couldn’t remember. _He_ had been there for me; _he_ had always been beside me—so why couldn’t I remember him? What happened that made me forget?

I dreamt of their faces again, the faces that brought hell to my earth.

I was running, running far and wide. Footsteps smacked loudly against the mud beneath my sneakers. I was running away. Far, _far_ away so no one could find me.

I hated people. I hated my parents.

I didn’t even have enough time to pack. The only thing I was able to grab was a photo of _him_ and me. My eyes were too blurred with tears to see the picture as I shoved it into one of my jean pockets. There was no time to look at it, though I really wanted to.

I didn’t realize how far I had run until I started seeing suburbs. My heart clenched.

I decided I was going to see _him_ ; I _needed_ to see _him_.

Another twenty minutes passed before I finally reached his house. He was outside in the rain with his back faced towards me. My heart skipped a beat. He looked to be gathering some outdoor tools to put in his shed.

I opened my mouth to call out his name, when—

 

_…BEEP, BEEP, BEEP…_

 

I jumped up in bed in a cold sweat. I was out of breath, too.

“…You’ve _got_ to be pulling my balls right now,” I loudly groaned, tossing my hands up into my hair. “Dammit! Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

I was _so_ close… I would’ve heard his name if my alarm hadn’t gone off.

I slapped my phone off, then got out of bed and started pacing around my room. The name was on the tip of my tongue, but I just _couldn’t_ spit it out for the life of me. The only thing I came out of that dream with was the fact that hehad dark hair.

“SHIT!” I shouted, scaring Lucy out of her bed. I heaved a heavy sigh, then squatted down to pet the dog, telling her that everything was okay. Things _weren’t_ okay, though. I needed to figure out the guy’s name and why he cared so much for me.

 I lazily walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I made myself an egg and bacon sandwich and poured myself a cup of fresh coffee, then walked into my office. I sat down at my desk and ate while scribbling down ideas for a new book.

  * Dark haired character, preferably male (maybe a landscaper?)

  * The narrator is stupidly in love with the dark haired dude.

  * The narrator has depression.

  * The narrator is abused.

  * The narrator’s an asshole.




My breath hitched in my throat. I was hopeless.

I would’ve done anything to see _his_ face again.

I finished eating my meal, then got up and walked out of the room. I put my plate in the kitchen sink and chugged the rest of my coffee. I needed the energy for what I was about to do.

I showered, got dressed, then started pacing around my apartment again while staring at my cellphone. I scrolled through my contacts and found a freckled Jesus’s number. I wanted to call him. I did. That was why he was in my phone. His number was there for that purpose—so why couldn’t I press the fucking call button?

It had been a week since I had last seen Marco. I mean, I would text him about books and would text about some of the TV shows we both were watching—but I wanted to talk to him more. He seemed like he’d make the perfect friend, and I needed a new friend in Trost, since all my old ones were back in Shiganshina.

I took a deep breath in, then out and hit _call_.

He picked up by the third ring. “Hello? Jean?”

My heart squeezed. _Here comes that weird feeling again._ “Hey Marco. Yeah, it’s me. What’s up?” The fact that I was even able to talk was a plus. I would give myself a good pat on the back afterwards.

“Oh, hey. N-nothing really…just babysitting my little sister and brother,” He paused, lowering his voice. “Is everything okay?”

 _I too wonder that_ , I mused. “I’m fine. I just thought it’d be cool talking…if, of course, you’re not too busy.”

There was a small stretch of silence, until I heard him chuckle warmly in my ear. It sounded so close. I breathed unevenly and felt my face and neck burn.

 _He has the most beautiful laugh_ , I considered.

“I’m not too busy, so I wouldn’t mind talking with you,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “What would you like to talk about?”

 _Ugh… I didn’t really think about that before calling._ “W-well… I’m not sure if this is all that interesting or not, but it’s been on my mind a lot lately,” I scratched the back of my neck and thought. “I’ve been hearing this voice in my head—and _no_ , I’m _not_ insane—it’s just, it sounds really familiar…but I can’t place a name or a face to it.”

It was quiet. _Really_ fucking quiet on the other line… Was he really babysitting?

I almost hung up when Marco finally spoke. “Hm… That’s interesting.”

I sighed, then nodded, not like he could’ve seen it or anything. “Yeah… I mean, I hear the voice all the time in my dreams. It’s always there—no… _he’s_ always there. It’s so strange, dude. I dream of the voice, but can never see who it’s coming from. Then last night, I got really pissed off because I was so close to calling his name when the alarm on my phone went off,” I plopped down onto my couch and moaned. “I almost saw his face, too. I saw the back of him…saw that he had dark hair, but that was about it.”

I heard Marco’s breathing waver on the other side of the phone. “You…you did?” His voice became even quieter. “Did you really almost remember?”

Puzzled, I blinked. “Yeah, I did,” I ran a hand through my hair. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“N-no! I’m just…just happy! I mean, I’m happy _for_ you.” He paused to laugh softly. “You almost saw him last night, which means you’re bound to see him again, right? I’m sure one of these days you’ll call out his name and he’ll turn to you—and when he does, you’ll know him. You’ll recognize him.”

“You think?”

“I _know_ ,” his voice was caring. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised when you find out.”

“What makes you say that?” As soon as I asked, I heard screaming in the background. I pulled my ear away from the phone with wide eyes. “The fuck? Is everything okay over there?”

Marco let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, probably. My siblings are just fighting again. Hold on one second,” away from the phone, I heard him shout, “Annalisa, Bettino! Be nice to one another! You don’t want me to have to come in there! I’ll put you both in time out!”

 _Annalisa and Bettino… Those are some very Italian names_ , I thought as I lay down on the couch.

“Jean? Sorry. They can be a handful sometimes…”

I laughed. “That’s alright, I don’t mind… How old are the little suckers, anyway?”

“Seven and eight…” Marco suddenly sounded exhausted. “They listen to Mom and Dad, but only listen to me half the time.”

“Is that so?” I felt a smirk twitch up onto my face. “That must mean you give into them the _other_ half of the time.”

“I-I guess…I guess I’m a little too nice to them sometimes.”

“Oh, Marco, that so sucks for you,” I rolled onto my side and noticed that Lucy was staring up at me. I pet her head while I talked. “I mean, in a way, I’d be glad if I were them. At least they have someone who loves and cares about them. That’s all that matters.” My stomach churned. I never had that parental guidance I needed as a kid. I had to learn shit the hard way, on my own.

“Jean… I’m sorry.” Marco’s voice quieted.

_Huh?_

“What are you apologizing for?”

“It’s just that—well, I’m only _assuming_ that your life back at your old home wasn’t all that great, since you seem to take your friendships and relationships with others very seriously,” he stuttered, “I-I do too, but I’ve never really experienced what you have.”

_What? How would he know what I’ve experienced? How would he know that my place back in Shiganshina wasn’t all that great? I’ve never told him any of that before… Is he really just assuming things?_

“Hey, Marco… Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?” He was acting fishy.

“Before the library—did I know you?”

Silence rose between us. There was a long pause. “Y—” He started, when one of his siblings started yelling. I deflated into the couch cushions.

He stopped and sighed with frustration. “I’m so sorry… I really need to go. My brother and sister are starting to get annoying. I have to go entertain them before someone gets killed.” He then stopped before muttering into the phone, “After my parents get off work, would you like to hang out and talk some more?”

I was _really_ fuckin’ confused—but I was pumped about the invitation.

“Y-yeah, sure. That’d be cool. Where do you want to meet up?”

“Rose Café on Titan street—do you know where that is?”

“Yeah, I think. It’s only a few blocks away from me,” Despite all the weird, mixed emotions, I managed to smile over the phone. “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you there then.”

“I’ll text you to let you know when they get back,” his voice became sweeter and a lot less strange. “I’ll see you later.”

“ _À la prochaine fois_ , Marco.”

My face immediately turned beat red—like, _tomato_ red. _Shit…my French slipped for some reason._

“ _Alla prossima_ , Jean.” He gently answered with a small laugh, before hanging up.

My lips parted while my heart ran a mile in my chest. I knew the phrase. It was Italian for, ‘until next time.’ How I knew that, I had not a damn clue—but those three words together meant more to me than others ever had.

They were the source of my confusion, but the flames to my fire…

…The fire that warmed me that chilly autumn day and many more to come.

 

*****

Around eight Marco texted me saying that his parents finally returned and that he’d leave for the café in a few minutes. I texted back an, “okay,” then ran to the nearest mirror to have a look at my appearance. I hastily ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, then noticed the bags under my eyes.

I heaved a heavy sigh. I looked like I hadn’t slept in ages—which was partially true. Every night I’d have a nightmare about something that’d wake me up in a cold sweat. And when I wasn’t asleep, I was usually lying awake, _unable_ to fall asleep… Insomnia sucked.

I quickly served Lucy her dinner, gave her a kiss on the head, then left.

 

When I found the café, I walked in. Heat instantly rushed to my face. It felt nice.

I barely looked around when I heard, “Jean!” I turned to my left to see Marco walking up to me. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I said with a smile. He was cute, wearing a black cardigan with a white button-down tee underneath, a pair of dark jeans, and a pair of charcoal gray converse. He had his hands tucked into his pockets with a light blush dusted across his cheeks. He must have just gotten there not too long ago, too.

“I found us a place to sit. It’s closer to the back, though.”

“That’s fine. Anywhere is okay.”

“Cool,” He led us to this little, crafty wooden table, then motioned for me to sit. “I’ll get our order. What would you like?”

“What do they _have_?” I asked. It was my first time there. I had no idea what they served.

With that, Marco grabbed a little menu from the table and handed it to me. As soon as I opened it up, I saw the beverages. “I normally get a chocolate frappuccino with whipped cream, but when it starts to get cool out, I order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows,” he explained, pointing to his drink on the menu. “Go ahead and order whatever you’d like, though. It’s on me.”

“Marco, I can pay—”

“No. I asked you to come out here. Let me at least pay for your drink. You can pay some other time, if it really bothers you that much,” he assured with a tiny smile. I felt my insides flip.

“O-okay… Next time, for sure,” I told him quietly. “And I guess I’ll have the same as you.” He gave me a soft nod, then turned and walked over to the counter. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, due to all the talking going on around me—but I was able to study his profile from afar, though. I tried not making it _too_ obvious, which I probably failed at.

Most of his freckles are concentrated across the bridge of his nose and spill over onto his cheeks. His light brown eyes are only a few shades darker than mine and are a beautiful shade of gold when in the right light. His hair is the same; it’s an inky-black, but can be mistaken for a dark brown or even a medium brown at times.

Marco eventually came back over to the table and set our drinks down. On my Styrofoam cup, it read: _Jeanie-beanie_ _J_

I looked over at him while he laughed at my expression. “What? You don’t like your nickname?”

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s nice for a _five_ year old, not a _twenty-two_ year old.”

Marco giggled—fucking _giggled_ at me—then took a sip of his hot chocolate. Whipped cream attacked his mouth. He happily licked it away and innocently went in for some more. My face was probably as red as I damn tomato. No joke. All that white looked good on his lips…

_No Jean, no! You’re sick in the mind! What don’t you get? No. Fucking. Homo._

_NO HOMO!_

Too fucking late for that…

I cleared my throat and dryly laughed. “Then you’ll be Marco-Polo. It’s only fair.”

“Is that really all you can come up with? Can’t you at least be a little more original?”

Damn you, Marco…damn you.

“Then how about…” I thought long and hard, “Marcotholomew?”

“That sounds terrifying! Absolutely not,” he protested. “I’d sound like some old, ancient dude that wears a powdered wig and tights wherever he goes.”

I cracked up, purposely hitting the palm of my hand against the table. That gained a few stares, but shit; I could care less! I had an image of a very handsome Marco in my head wearing clothes from the Enlightenment age, as well as a white powdered wig. Man, that’d be one hell-of-a-sight! If I had the chance to see him like that, I’d be snapping pictures left and right while peeing myself.

“Ah, come on, Marco! The name’s perfect!”

“No,” he pouted. “Think of something else.”

“Marcooooo!” I whined. “No fair!”

“ _Yes_ fair.”

“Marcooooooooo!”

“No, Jean. I mean it,” he took another sip of his hot chocolate and attempted to hide a big, goofy grin behind his cup. “It’s creepy.”

“Hmph. _Fine_. I’ll name my next pet Marcotholomew.”

Marco nearly choked on his drink. “You wouldn’t.”

“I _would_ ,” I answered proudly. “I love that name too damn much to give up on it.”

He heaved a heavy sigh and stared down at his hands wrapped firmly around his Styrofoam cup. Something sad suddenly reflected in his eyes. It was all too familiar. It was the look of defeat—something that had once surfaced my eyes, too.

I felt my chest constrict on the spot. It was just a nickname, geesh… Was it really that big of a deal to him?

I sat in a state of deep contemplation, thinking of other options. I took a long swig at my hot chocolate and nearly burned my tongue off in the process. Not the smartest idea.

Leisurely, I carried my eyes back up at Marco. “How about Freckles…or Freck-Specks, since I’m sure they’re people who already call you Freckles?”

Marco’s eyes shot up at mine. They now shone as bright as stars. _Are you serious right now? He actually_ likes _them?_

“I like Freck-Specks. Please call me that.”

I raised a brown brow at him. “You _like_ it? It doesn’t bother you?”

“No, it doesn’t bother me. Why should it when you mean it as a compliment?”

“I never said it was a compliment…” I mumbled under my breath. Marco’s lips curled upwards. He shook his head at me, resting his chin in the palm of his hands.

“But I know it is,” he answered. “You told me you liked them.”

“Huh? When did I say that?” _Did I really compliment his freckles once? When did I? I can’t remember._

“The time doesn’t matter…it’s the fact that you said it that counts.” His words sounded mature, _too_ mature for him. There was a hidden meaning in what he said, I was sure of it. It made me want to know more; I wanted to know more about Marco.

“I wish I knew more about you…” I caught myself as soon as I said it. I didn’t _mean_ to say it aloud—but I did. I screwed up.

Marco’s eyes broadened, face turning a light shade of pink for some reason.            

“Then do it. Get to know me,” he reached across the table and gripped one of wrists with a sense of urgency. His gorgeous eyes gazed deeply into mine. “Jean, I’m right here. Ask me anything.”

I wanted to just grab the hand clutching my wrist and hold it tightly in mine. I wanted to press my lips to his every knuckle and tell him how strangely important he was to me already. I wanted to tell him I felt as if I had known him all my life, that we had known each other long before a week. I wanted to tell him exactly how his freckles made me feel—how they reminded me of the stars at night, and how the ones across the bridge of his nose reminded me of the Milky Way.

There were so many things I wanted to say and do to him—but couldn’t…not yet.

“Marco…you’re like a person I’ve known for so long. It’s weird. Out of everyone I currently know right now, I’m closest to you and we’ve only known each other for like a week.” I grinned. “Guess that makes you special, Freck-Specks.”

He grew quiet. He just coyly stared over at me with a faint smile. “I feel like I’ve known you a long time too, Jeanie-Beanie…a _really_ long time…”

The two of us left the café another half an hour later, then parted ways. We promised to see each other again sometime soon and have a movie night or something of that sort. After that night, the two of us became good friends. We had bonded in a way I never have before. We talked as if we had known each other for years and had laughed as if we were the only two people in the whole world.

It was the greatest feeling.

.

.

.

A month soon passed after that day. Both Marco and I had become best friends and always hung out whenever we’d get the chance to. Our relationship only grew, as did my feelings for him. Screw no homo; I _was_ homo.

With every passing day, I dreamt exclusively of both Marco and the young male voice I’d always hear talking to me. Together, they made a beautiful combination. It was almost as if their voices were meant to guide me, meant to _inspire_ me…

My urge to write was bouncing off the walls, all thanks to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've had this chapter out sooner if I hadn't been working on my manuscript for my publisher... -.- Well, I'm finally done with the final edit and am turning it in today, so hopefully I'll be able to write the this fic a lot more often! ^^ Again, thank you all so much for the love and support and I hope you all will stick around for chapter three! Love you all! <3


	3. A Freckled-Filled Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Ideas For New Book:  
> . A dark-haired man visits...  
> . A fun day is an understatement...  
> . Clue impressions...  
> . Pizza and Wine...  
> . The truth...  
> . You, Me, Him, and Us...

I was sitting on my couch with my notebook propped up on both my knees and was writing away. I was in total author mode and was in deep concentration. Nothing could stop me once I start—

_Ding-dong!_

With that, I threw my notebook and pen aside and sprinted to the door—fucking _sprinted_. Lucy chased at my heels.

“Marcotholo _mewwwwwwwwwwww_!” I shouted as I ran. As soon as I opened the door, he immediately pushed me back and squeezed past me so he could get into the apartment. His cheeks were flushed.

“Please, just let me in before you embarrass me even more…”

I peeked out past the front door and saw two older women giggling. When they saw me they waved. I waved back and proudly grinned. “Doesn’t he have a great name?”

“A very… _unique_ name,” one of the women answered.

“To say the least,” the other added.

“It’s Marco! My name’s Marco!” Freckled-Specks called from inside the apartment.

I cracked up. I said goodbye to my neighbors, then shut the door behind me. I turned around to see Marco’s face a bright shade of red. Leaning up against the door, my smile widened. “I don’t see what’s to be so embarrassed of. I created that name with a lot of love, you know.”

“Bet you did,” Marco sassed. I crossed my arms across my chest and watched him as he took off his shoes and scarf. He placed his shoes in one of the cubbyholes next to the front door and placed his scarf on a nearby coatrack.

“Look. This time you actually have a nice place to put your shoes and scarf. You probably wouldn’t if you hadn’t helped me unpack.”

Marco gently smiled, then raised a black brow at me. “I knew if I didn’t it would’ve taken you a year. Knowing you, you would’ve done a quarter of a box a day, then call quits.”

“Hey now, that’s not true! I’m not _that_ bad.” What was I saying? Yes I was.

“Whatever you say, Jean,” Marco then walked over to the couch and plopped down. As soon as he did, Lucy jumped up onto his lap. He laughed and pet the small dog’s back. “Hi Lucy! Have you been good girl while I was away?”

“Of course she has. She _always_ is,” I rolled my eyes, then went into the kitchen and searched the counters. “Hey, would you like something to eat? I’m starving!”

After a minute, Marco came walking in with Lucy in his arms. “What do plan on having?”

“Probably a sandwich. I have some cold cuts, if you’d like. I also have new jars of peanut butter and jelly if you prefer.”

“A sandwich sounds good. What kind of cold cuts do you have?”

I looked in the fridge in the deli drawer. “I have buffalo chicken, American cheese, cheddar cheese, mozzarella cheese, baloney, ham, and turkey.”

Marco put Lucy down and contemplated over his options, pointing his eyes up at the ceiling. When he finally made up his mind, he walked up to my side, grabbing the buffalo chicken, American cheese, and mozzarella cheese from the drawer. “Sounds great. Thank you.”

“H-hey now, what do you think you’re doing? You’re my guest! I’m making your sandwich.”

Marco just walked past me with a comical look on his face. He put the cold cuts on the counter, then grabbed a loaf of Italian bread from the bread basket. “Jean, I’m capable of making my own sandwich. You go ahead and make yours. You said you were hungry, did you not?” he glanced over his shoulder at me, our eyes fleetingly meeting.

“W-well, yeah, but…”

“ _Jean_ ,” Marco started while untying the bread bag, “I have come to your apartment about every day this week, even with my busy schedule. I helped you unpack and pretty much know where everything is here better than I do my own house… Am I really still considered a guest?”

“If you’re not my guest, then what are you?” I was curious and growing impatient.

Marco looked up at the ceiling with his thumb rested on his chin. He thought about it a moment or two before saying, “I’m not really sure…but I’m certainly not a guest anymore, especially when I know your place inside and out.”

I swallowed hard and nodded firmly. Now _I_ was the one deep in thought. The fact that him and I had gotten pretty close over the past month meant something. He was an easy person to talk to and a good listener. He hadn’t judged me once since I had met him. It was great.

“Fine, _fine_ , Freck-Specks! You win this time. You’re not a _guest_ here anymore—though I have no idea what the hell you are now.”

He lightly laughed and finished making his sandwich. It looked really good so I settled for the same. As I was making mine, I glanced over at Marco who poured himself some water, then at his sandwich. I scoffed. “Well, _that’s_ a giant step in the right direction… When did you start leaving the crust on your bread?”

Marco nearly dropped the glass of water all over the counter. I questioningly glanced over at him and saw this melancholy look pasted to his face. He vacantly stared off into space.

“Marco?” I stopped what I was doing and focused all of my attention onto him.

“A-ah…I’ve been eating crust on my bread for a while now, Jean,” he picked up his plate and stared down at his sandwich. “Ever since _that_ day…”

“Hm?” I was really puzzled by the distant look in his eyes. It would sometimes happen to him while I wasn’t looking. I’d say something completely random and he’d become all gloomy and depressed all of a sudden. I struggled to keep a conversation going because I was always afraid of…well, Marco becoming like _that_.

After I put away all the cold cuts and tied the bread back up, we walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. We’d usually eat at the dining room table, but every here and there we would eat in the living room and watch TV.

I sat my plate down on the coffee table and turned to Marco, handing him the remote. “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom. Go ahead and put on whatever you want and I’ll be right back.” When I saw a sign of acknowledgement, I walked off into the guest bath, or as I would normally call it, Lucy’s bathroom (which was the bathroom closest to the front of the apartment).

I shut the door behind me, then turned to look at myself in the mirror. Deep within my light-brown eyes I could see a mystery hidden there—something I knew was disconnected or missing. Ever since Marco walked into my life I had been having all these strange things happen to me. First, the young voice I’d hear in my mind wasn’t always there before meeting Marco. I used to hear it once every blue moon. Those days though, it was so common that it felt a lot _more_ than just a voice—like that voice had actually belonged to a person; like it belonged to a _face_. Second, I started saying things that didn’t really make sense. I’d say stuff about Marco that I don’t really remember him telling me within the last month or so. I felt as if I had always known the guy…but I didn’t. I didn’t think that I did. And third, I labeled Marco as  _different_. He wasn’t like everyone else in my eyes. It was weird. From the moment I met him, ‘till now, I have been so interested in getting to know him. Like, I freakin’ _fixated_ on knowing everything about him… Guys don’t normally do that to other guys. What the hell.

I splashed icy cold water against my face, then dabbed it dry with a towel. I took a few deep breaths in then out before exiting the bathroom. _I want my damn sandwich in my stomach, like right **now**._ I was starving my ass off.

When I opened the bathroom door, the first thing I saw was Marco in the living room looking at my writer’s notebook. I went to yell at him to put it down, when I froze. He wore a warm beam across his freckled face, tears hazing over his eyes.

My heart fluttered behind my chest.

I walked out of the bathroom and slowly into the living room. Marco pointed his gaze up at me and pointed at my notebook. “Your short story is beautiful, Jean. You should really consider becoming an author. I think it’d really suit you.”

Here was the thing: I mentioned to Marco that I loved writing…but forgot to tell him that I already _was_ an author. _I guess now is better than never._

“Thanks…um, well, I already kind of _am_ an author, so…” I murmured.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. So much for knowing my whole entire apartment inside and out…I guess he didn’t check my office all too well.

“Seriously? Wow, that’s amazing, Jean!” He grinned from head to toe. “Why are you just telling me this now? I would love to read your books!”

I bashfully rubbed my warm neck and veered my eyes anywhere that wasn’t Marco. I don’t know why I felt so embarrassed after telling him, but I knew that his opinions and compliments meant most to me.

“I-I don’t know… I guess because I have a pen name. That and I just feel weird telling others about it.”

Marco nodded and hummed softly to himself. “I can understand that—but that doesn’t mean I can’t read them though, right? I’d really like to.” His persistency was tiring.

I chewed at my lip and thought, _Which one would he like? I don’t see him really getting into Punk Kid’s Breakout, or Titan’s Wall…so maybe…_ “Sure. I think I may have one you’d like.” I jumped up from the couch and excitedly ran into my office to grab a copy of one of my favorite books that I had written.

When I returned, I grabbed a pen scribbled inside the cover of the book:

 

_Dear Freck-Specks (AKA, Marcotholomew),_

_I’m glad we were able to meet. You’re a really great person and the kind of friend I have always wanted (dude, I just vomited a little in my mouth; I’m not one for being sweet, but I’m going to try—_ try _). Thanks for hanging out with my sorry ass and for being good company. You’re always welcomed over…Lucy says. I hope you like this book (it’s Lucy inspired so your freckled ass better like it)! Enjoy and thanks again, Marco._

_-Jean_

I threw my pen back onto the coffee table, then handed the book to Marco. He took it and smiled. “How much is it?”

“If you think I’m going to let you pay for it, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t see why I can’t when I’m more than willing to.”

“Nope. Not happening, so just keep the damn book and be happy.”

“I’m not going to be happy if I can’t _pay_ for it.”

“Then be _un_ happy because I won’t take your money.” I pressed before _finally_ picking up my plate to eat my sandwich. From my peripheral vision I could see a pouting Marco. I chuckled and rolled my eyes as I took another bite of my meal. He read the cover aloud, the corners of his lips curling.

“A Valley of Dogs by John Kay,” he then laughed with a light blush dusted across his cheeks. “I love the title—and your pen name, you sure put a lot of thought into it, huh?”

I mimicked his goofy grin and felt pride swell my insides. “Right? And I _did_ put a lot of time into the stupid name. Doesn’t it make me sound like some rich, old guy?”

“Well, I’m not sure about _rich_ , but there were a few famous old guys named John Kay… I believe one was a singer and song writer, another is an economist, and the last was an inventor.”

“And the newest is a writer. See? I was right! Old, _rich_ guys!” The two of us cracked up. Lucy barked, seemingly joining in on the laugh.

“I didn’t know you were an old, rich guy too, Jean!”

I glowered at him. “It’s not my _real_ name! It’s just a _pen_ name. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh, sure there is,” Marco sassed. I looked over at him with wide-eyes.

“You better watch what you say or I’m going to take back everything I wrote in your book.”

He opened the cover and stuck his tongue out at me. “Not before I see it.”

I exhaled and nervously flushed as he read what I wrote. I wasn’t really into all the sappy, sweet stuff, but Marco was a romantic. If anything, it would’ve probably made him happy.

He chuckled, his hands tightening around the sides of the book.

I wondered about that.

Once through, he looked over at me and contently smiled. “Thanks, Jeanie-beanie. It means a lot coming from you.”

Ugh…that nickname again.

“Yeah, _yeah_ … It should because I struggled to write that for you,” I grabbed his and my plate and stood before adding, “You’re lucky Freck-Specks. I’d never say that to anyone else but you—and Lucy.”

I then walked off towards the kitchen. I put the plates in the dishwasher and as I did, I heard Marco say, “That makes me kind of happy…”

_Seriously? Can the guy get any damn cuter?_

A ‘No-Homo’ came to my mind, but I immediately boxed it off, reminding myself that I _was_ homo. _Just face the facts, Jean. That Mikasa babe you digged back in college wasn’t meant for you…especially now that you daydream about tall, freckled broads with a big, goofy smile._

 

*****

All day, Marco and I goofed around. We played a whole bunch of board games and card games. My favorite was when we were playing Clue, though. He and I made up all these amusing accents for our characters. First round I was the snobby, rich Mrs. Peacock (because how could you _not_ be a character with such hilarious name?), and Marco was the elderly maid, Mrs. White. The whole time we spoke in falsetto, though a few times our voices cracked.

“Mrs. Peacock, I accuse you! You killed Miss Scarlett in the kitchen with the candle _stick_!” Marco’s voice gave out at the end which got me to snort.

“Mrs. White, let’s be honest. Miss Scarlett was a whore who slept with every guy in this man _sion_! She had it coming…and what better way to die then to have a candlestick shoved up your _ass_?”

“M-Mrs. Pea _cock_!” Marco chocked. I nearly died.

“Why do you think I killed her in the kitchen? She was hung _ry_ for some meat and thirsty for some men!”

With that, Marco and I went hysterical. We toppled over the board and belly laughed. When we finally managed to sit upright again, we had tears in our eyes and pink rubbed hard against our faces. Marco wiped under his bottom lashes and attempted to control his hysteria—but failed.

_He’s so fucking adorable._

“J-Jean—that’s _so_ bad!”

“ _But_ it’s funny,” I told him with a wink.

He nodded and gazed over at me with his honey-colored eyes. “Yeah, it is.”

Round two, I was Mr. Green who looked like a big shot that owned his own corporation. Oh, he was going to be a fun character to play… Marco, on the other hand, was Madam Rose (because I forced him to). I told him he needed to use his best female, Italian accent that he possibly could. He heaved a heavy breath and eventually gave in.

In the end, it was another hilarious round to say the least. Marco’s _amazing_ accent and high-pitched voice was the best part in my opinion, though. The whole time I made it so that my character was a pervert who cracked a ton of sex jokes. They had gotten Marco flustered and all red in the face.

When through, the two of us took Lucy for a walk around the local dog park and let her run around for a little bit. She played catch with a dachshund and made some new friends. Playdates were arranged and phone numbers were exchanged with me. While Lucy frolicked around the field with her buddies, Marco and I stood around and talked, stealing a few occasional glances at one another. Whenever we’d look at each other though, our eyes would magnetize, making it hard to pull away.

I would’ve done anything to have his hand in mine at that moment.

But a lingering thought remained in the back of my mind… What if Marco didn’t like men? I mean, I couldn’t risk losing him. I couldn’t go back to my old, tedious life again, not after he spiced it up.

I stared up at the gray sky above us and saw a bunch of clouds instead of the sun.

            _Marco…if I was to say I like you—would things change for the better or worse?_

 

*****

On the way back to my place, we picked a large pizza and a thing of garlic knots. We even went to the local pet store to pick up some more dog biscuits for Lucy. When we were back in my apartment though, we set the food down on the dining room table and put Lucy’s treats in the kitchen’s pantry closet. After pouring Lucy some food, I seized two glasses, a bottle of red wine, and two plates before heading back into the dining room.

“Wine and pizza?” Marco questioned with a black brow raised.

“Yeah, why not? You’re Italian. You do this sort of thing, don’t you?”

“Not normally…but I guess it isn’t a bad idea.”

I grinned and set my favorite plate and glass in front of him. I poured him some wine, then did the same for myself. Afterwards, I grabbed a slice of jalapeno pizza and went to town. The two of us ate in a peaceful silence, until I felt the need to say something.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a really long time. Thanks for today, Marco.”

The freckled man finished chewing before flashing me one of his pearliest grins. His honey coated eyes gleamed in the half-dimmed room. “It has been a while since I’ve had this much fun, too… Almost six years actually,” he softly chuckled then took a sip of his wine. “So I should actually be thanking _you_ for today.”

“Almost six years?” My eyes gaped. “My God Marco… What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He stared down at his meal with those same distant eyes as earlier. His smile slowly faded into something that seemed forced. He steadily shook his head. “I want to tell you…but I don’t know if it’d be the right thing to do,” he paused, a frown crawling along his lips. “Hiding the truth hurts more than I have ever anticipated—because just looking at you is the most bittersweet feeling I have ever experienced before…” Marco suddenly stopped, briefly resting his fingertips over hips lips as if he were deep in thought. His honey-colored orbs teared.

The sight made my heart break. “M-Marco…?”

Finally, he looked up at me—but not for long.

“Jean…I’m so confused right now…” he quietly cried. “I’m going down two different paths right now and I’m not sure which one might bring me happiness.”

I stood, then hesitated before walking over to him. I reached out to touch his shoulder, when he hastily spat out, “You and I used to know each other in the past!” My hand stopped and my eyes broadened.

_What?_

“J-Jean…you were in a bad accident and were in a coma for four months—and when you woke up, you remembered everything _but_ me…and forgot about _us_.”

“U-us…?” I remembered being in a bad train accident, but…

“Yes. We were together before that,” Marco faintly smiled, then averted his gaze. “We have known each other since we were eight—and hooked up when we were fifteen. We were together for two years before the accident… Do you remember it?”

“Y-yeah…of course I do, I just…try to pretend it never happened—the _accident_.”

Marco hummed gently before nodding his head. “When you woke up again, I was so happy I couldn’t contain myself—but then you asked who I was, and everything went downhill again,” Marco wiped his eyes with the back of his hand; the corners of his lips twitched with displeasure. “Aren’t I horrible? I should have just been thankful that you were awake and alive—which I was, but…it felt as if everything we had done together didn’t even happen…” He rubbed his temples with his thumbs and pressed on. “Around the same time my parents, siblings and I moved here. I took it that fate wanted me to move on—so I did, or at least I _tried_ to…but when you came walking into Trost’s library for the first time and sat at the end of my aisle, I almost broke down. I somehow found a way to keep strong, though, and treated you as if I had just met you for the very first time…”

Silence grew between us as Marco continued to softly weep in front of me.

Eventually, my lips betrayed and said, “I had a feeling I knew you from somewhere…” Marco suddenly looked up at me with a shimmer of hope in his glossy eyes. “Since the day we started talking to each other, I have wanted to get to know you. For some reason I just wanted to befriend you, to be _with_ you. I don’t know…you felt like someone important to me,” I chuckled, then tested the waters by placing a hand on Marco’s shoulder. He tensed. “And within the past month I have never been happier. Marco, you have filled the gap that I have been feeling since I was seventeen.”

“J-Jean…”

I caressed his face with the back of his hand. He was uneasy at first, but progressively leaned into my touch. “Marco…I know it has only been a little more than a month when compared to the years we have spent together, but I want to get to know you again. I want to remember everything about you, about _us_.” I felt my face warm and my eyes become glassy after considering all the pain I had put him through… I wanted to change that. I wanted to be there for Marco so maybe I could make up for all the years spent away from him. I wanted to put a big smile on his face and make him the happiest person he could ever be, because he of all people deserved that much.

“Whether it’s too soon or not, I just want you to know that I like you Marco… _a lot_.”

More tears swarmed in his eyes. He stared over at me a long moment before nodding. A huge smile conquered his confused lips. “And I love you Jean, _a lot_.”

I drew my hand away from his face so I could lean down and give him a hug. I rested my head down against his and pressed apologetic kisses into his black hair. He grasped the back of my shirt and squeezed me close to him.

“I have missed you so much, Jean…”

“I’m sorry… I’m going to try my absolute hardest to get my memories back. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to figure it out. I _will_ remember you again, no matter how long it takes.”

“I hope you do.” Marco muttered, digging his head against my shoulder.

“Until then, remind me. Take me step-by-step through the things we used to do. Tell me the things we used to talk about and some of our greatest memories together. Maybe that’ll trigger something.”

“I can do that,” he breathed against my shirt, then drew his head back, leading me to do the same. I looked at him questioningly.

“But can you promise me something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“To never forget me again.”

I rested my forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. “Marco, I promise to never forget you. Not again, not ever.”

“Good, because I don’t think I could handle losing you twice.”

I cupped his face in my hands. “It’s not going to happen, so don’t you worry your freckled face over it.” He stared up at me and let out an even breath that hit gently against my face.

I got the chills.

My thumbs rubbed circles against his smooth skin. I observed every inch of his face and took in all the little details that my old self probably picked up on before the accident. His eyelashes were fairly long…and you could probably draw the constellations by connecting his freckles together. The more I looked at him, the more handsome the goofball became—which I didn’t think was humanly possible.

But it was.

Little by little I closed the gap between us. I pressed a feathery kiss to his soft lips and felt a shock of electricity soar throughout my every nerve. In reality, the kiss itself was brief, but felt as if it lasted a millennium.

When our lips parted, Marco started laughing cutely.

“W-what?” I mumbled.

“You have pizza and wine breath.”

“Well, you do too…”

“I know I do,” he answered with a tender smile. “I’m not complaining about it. It actually makes me really happy… It reminds me of our high school days when we always used to eat pizza together, and sneak some of your parents’ wine into your bedroom whenever I’d sleepover—which, of course, I’d yell at you for doing.”

I cracked up and looked Marco square in the face. “I got you to do some pretty crazy stuff, huh? I’m not really surprised. I was a wild teenager.”

“You could say that again,” Marco said with a roll of his eyes.

“I was a wild teenager.” He shot me a look, then pinched my nose. “Ow, ow, ow, _ow_!”

“Serves you right for being a smartbutt.”

“You mean smart _ass_?”

“I’d probably call you that if I didn’t love you so much,” he sighed. “But I do.”

“I guess I’m lucky then.” I gave him a cocky smile and in return he smirked.

“Guess you are.” Marco then pushed his lips up against mine and kissed me again— once, twice, _three_ times before pulling away.

After that, the two of us finished up our meal and wine. We cleaned up the dining room, then curled up on the couch and watched the movie Free Willy (because why not). He cuddled up against me, resting his head against my shoulder. We fell to a peaceful silence while we watched the moving picture in front of us. I couldn’t really focus on the movie, though…not with Marco so close to me.

I snaked an arm around his back and pulled him closer, which he easily submitted to.

Marco wound up spending the night that night and slept in the same bed as me. We didn’t have sex or anything, but we did kiss a little  before falling asleep within the other’s embrace.

.

.

.

I dreamt of _him_ again…except that night I called out his name and he turned.

A pair of honey-brown eyes encountered mine. His cheeks and the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose was dotted with little, brown dots. His inky-black hair swayed within the stormy winds and was drenched from the rain.

“Jean, what are you doing here?” He called over to me. Instead of answering, I ran up to my childhood best friend and hugged him close. I sobbed into his shoulder and held him so tight that he couldn’t escape. Never, _ever_.

After such a long time, I _finally_ remembered him…and it was exactly as he said. He really _was_ there from the start. We had been together longer than I had expected.

Me and…

“Marco,” I slowly began. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Clue can be a two-player game if you know what you're doing. :P  
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Now that Jean knows the truth, him and Marco can move forward... It's up to Freck-Specks (AKA, Marcotholomew) to do the reminding, and Jeanie-beanie to do the remembering.  
> Thank you all for the support and I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter! ^^ <3


	4. Forget My Accident, Let's Have a Sleepover!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Ideas For Book:  
> . Jean's train accident...  
> . A girl and her mother...  
> . Last minute thoughts...  
> . Goodbye my angel...  
> . A nightmare...  
> . Reiner and Bert/ Eren and Levi...  
> . A freckled sleepover...  
> . Mysteries solved...  
> . Goofy memories...  
> . Promise bracelets...  
> . Infinity...

It was a Friday, two hours after school. I gathered some summery clothes and threw them into my suitcase. They were taken out though, and were folded before being placed properly back into my bag. A small sigh was produced at my side.

“You could at least fold your clothes, you know. You don’t want them to be all wrinkly when you check out your dream university, do you?”

“It doesn’t bother me. I’ll be visiting next year and senior year, too. I’ll dress nicely then.” I grabbed some boxers from my drawer, then threw them on top of the stack Marco was folding, receiving a loud sigh from the teenager.

Marco stopped what he was doing when I walked to over my bathroom. “Jean, don’t think you’re going to get away with this. Come over here and help me.”

I looked over my shoulder and frowned. “Ah, come on Marco! I have to get more things together. I don’t mind have wrinkly clothes. Really, it’s fine.”

He wearily eyed me from my bed. “First of all, you should’ve packed last night so you wouldn’t have to rush to find things to bring with you today. Second of all, _I_ care. No boyfriend of mine will be walking around his dream campus in wrinkly clothes. Over my dead body.”

I groaned before walking back over to the bed, plopping down onto it. I leant him a hand in folding _my_ clothes. At my side, Marco tenderly curled his lips upwards before proceeding to fold the article of clothing he was working on moments before.

When we were done, I grabbed a few more essentials before stuffing them into my suitcase. We left for the train station soon after that. With my parents off in some foreign country at the time, Marco and I decided to just walk. One of my housemaids offered to drive us, but Marco thoughtfully declined, claiming it to be a nice afternoon and that I needed the fresh air before being stuffed into a cramped train for two hours. I had to agree with him on that. The earthy scent that filled my nostrils relaxed me, to say the least.

I decided every year I’d visit this university that I had my eyes set on since the moment I entered Shiganshina High for the very first time. It had some of the best writing courses in the whole world, so I wanted to go there and experience them for myself. Visiting the university every year would help motivate me to try my absolute hardest in school so I could get in. You needed high marks all throughout high school and needed at least an 1800 on your SATs. Marco was very supportive about the whole thing and had helped me the best that he could.

Eventually, we reached the train station and waited patiently for my train to arrive. We chatted about what we’d do the following weekend. We planned to have a movie night at my place, since my parents would still be gone—not that it really mattered whether they were there or not in the first place. They ignored me for the most part. The only time we’d interact was when they’d yell at me for not doing something right. That and when my dad was beating the shit out of me.

Yeah, other than those two things, I was usually left alone.

When my train showed up, Marco’s grip around my hand tightened. He gazed down at me with a small, sad smile. “I know it’s only going to be two days, but…I’m really going to miss you,” he sighed. “Promise me we’ll always be together no matter what.” He always said that right before I’d go on a long, or slightly long, trip.

I chuckled lightly and caressed his face with the back of my hand. He leaned into my touch and fleetingly closed his eyes. He seemingly relaxed.

“I promise you dork. We’ll always be together,” I assured him. “It’ll go fast. I’ll be back in no time.” I reached up and pulled his head down to mine and whispered against his soft lips, “I love you, Freck-Specks.”

“I love you too, Jeanie-Beanie. Have a safe trip.”

Our lips touched and we kissed slow, sweet, and carelessly. The air around us was so serene and pleasant that I didn’t want to pull away… Maybe I should have reconsidered the trip.

I should have reconsidered the trip _that_ day of _that_ year.

When I was finally on the train and found a nice window seat, I stared out at Marco who stared back with his perfect sun-kissed, tenderhearted face. He had on his usual big grin that made angels cry and gods worship. His honey-brown eyes gazed back at me with nothing short of unconditional love…unconditional love that I too felt towards him.

When the train started rolling, I waved at him and he waved back. He then lifted his thumb and index finger up to ear and mouthed a, _call me_.

I nodded, then watched after him until the very moment he disappeared from my sight. I slumped back in my seat after that and plugged my ears with earbuds. I listened to the playlist Marco had put on my phone the day before.

It calmed me…calmed me right before the storm.

*****

I was dozing off when I heard a loud noise. I could hear it even with my earbuds in.

_Huh. That’s weird._

I unplugged one ear, and as soon as I did, I was violently jolted from my seat, plummeting onto the ground. Peoples’ screams sounded all around me. The young girl, who was sitting in the seat across from me, had banged her head hard against the train’s wall. The loud thud that came with it made me shiver. She was screaming crying and held her head in both her hands. Her mom had gone off somewhere before the train started going out of control and still wasn’t back.

I tried standing so I could see if I could help the child, but immediately tumbled again when the train lurched from side to side at a dangerous speed.

_What the fuck is going on? Why are we going so fast?_

From the ground, I reached out and held onto the girl’s knees, grabbing her attention. She looked down at me and continued to cry pitifully. I then removed my hands and held arms out to her. She obliged, voluntarily moved down to me.

I whispered into her ear, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll protect you.” I pulled my head away briefly to ask, “What’s your name?”

“S-Sarah…” She choked out.

“Hi Sarah. I’m Jean,” I hastily told her. “Now, we’re going to make it through this, alright? I need you to stay strong and bear with me,” I glanced out the window. Sparks were flying from the tracks. “If you do that, I’ll try my absolute hardest to keep safe.”

The green-eyed girl stared at me with tears running down both of her round cheeks. “O-okay…b-but what about Mommy? W-will she be safe?”

“I’m sure your Mommy is safe,” I assured her, wiping stray tears from the girl’s face. “Sarah, where did she go? Do you know?”

“T-to the bathroom…”

I nodded, then became quiet. I didn’t know what else to say—actually, I didn’t even have _time_ to say anything because, before I knew it, the train was skidding along the tracks, attempting to make a stop—which didn’t work out all that well.

The train just wound up flipping onto its side before rolling off of its tracks and down a hill. I braced both Sarah and myself. I made sure to hold the child’s head close to my chest as we spun around and around in circles. We fell into other people and rolled as the train did.

When we came to an abrupt stop, my head slammed powerfully against one of the windows. Blood rushed to my head and my vision painted in white. My whole world flashed before my eyes. My shitty parents, my older sister, all my high school friends, the people I had met briefly, and last, Marco had made his grand reappearance.

All the memories of me and my freckled boyfriend prominently stuck out most to me. From the time we met as kids to the time I got onto the train and waved goodbye to him. How happy he looked—and how sad he’d become to know that I could no longer be there with him…that I could no longer touch him, hug him, kiss him, and whisper sweet nothings to him.

The order it would happen: he’d be shocked, then distraught, then agonized.

I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being all upset over me.

It hurt, a lot.

_Marco, no matter where I go, will you keep your head held high for me? I want you to steel yourself for what’s about to come…live through it…remember it…remember me and don’t forget the things we have done together. The things we have accomplished, the things we have laughed over, the things we goofed around about. When we kissed and made love for the first time…don’t forget them, but forget the pain, forget the emptiness, forget the guilt, forget the anger, forget everything that’ll put your mind in turmoil._

_Do that for me, won’t you please, my beautiful, **beautiful**_ , _freckled angel?_

_My one and only real love…my Marco._

_I love you, and always will._

_Remember that._

_Never forget._

.

.

.

When I woke up, I was surrounded by white. A _blinding_ white.

Among it, I noticed, was an angel…an angel with freckles.

And damn—he was the most _gorgeous_ being I had ever laid eyes on in my whole entire life…but when I asked for his name, the angel’s eyes only widened. New tears replaced the old, drowning his lovely brown orbs with what looked to be shock.

I only saw him twice after that—then he disappeared.

To see an angel appear in front of you is rare…to see them take the form of a human is even rarer—so the fact that I saw the same angel _three_ times must have been a blessing.

I was blessed by a winged being whose face became hazier as the years passed.

 

*****

While in the hospital, a little girl came into my room one day with the biggest, cheeriest smile across her face. At first, I didn’t recognize her—then it hit me.

“Sarah?”

She bounced back and forth on her heels and nodded her head vigorously, making her brown hair sway along with her. Her big green eyes gazed over at me. “Yes! Hi Jean!” she ran over to my side and plopped down onto my bed.

There was a small knock on the door before a woman came walking in. She peeked around the curtains and smiled softly at me.

It was Sarah’s mother.

“Oh, thank God…” I felt my eyes tear over. I wasn’t one to be overly sentimental, but the thought of not knowing whether or not Sarah and her mother were still alive haunted me every day since I had woken up. “I’m so happy to see that you both are okay.”

Sarah leaned down and planted a kiss onto my cheek, then lay her head down against my chest. “Thank you for protecting me, though you got really hurt in the process.”

“Sarah left with nothing more than a few scratches and a small concussion that she has recovered from.” Her mother said. She walked past the curtains wearing a long, blue dress and sweater over it. She looked well.

“Were you hurt at all?” I asked her. She sighed lightly and nodded.

“I had broken my arm and leg and needed stitches for various different cuts,” she froze, her voice becoming grim. “We got out easy though, Jean—because three fourths of the train died that day…especially when it caught on fire.”

I stopped breathing.

“N-no way…” Sarah’s grip around me tightened. _So it was true? Almost everyone…_

“Yes, dear,” she walked over to my bed and sat down behind her daughter who still clung to me. The mother rested her hand over one of mine and smiled sadly with tears in her eyes. “So thank you for protecting my little girl, even after you were knocked unconscious… I don’t know what my husband and I would do if we lost our angel.”

I had an angel—though I hadn’t seen him in a while.

“Mrs.—”

“Mrs. Brennen—but please, Jannat is fine. My daughter’s hero doesn’t need to be formal with me.” Jannat was a very kindhearted woman. The type of person you could put all your trust into. I don’t know. I could just _tell_ she was.

 _I have someone like that_ , I mused. _I think I do. Wait. Do I?_ I stopped my train of thought the moment I felt a bad headache coming on.

Oh, wow. What a pun.

“Okay, _Jannat_ , you really don’t have to thank me. I was just doing what every decent person should do.”

“Well, you did that _plus_ more, so thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, big brother!” Sarah chimed in.

I flushed and bashfully rubbed the nape of my neck. I was never good with compliments. I would freeze up and totally forget how to speak. I could blabber on and on about random shit day in and day out, but when I’d receive a heartfelt compliment, I’d forget every word in the dictionary. Growing up in my household I hardly ever received praise, but when I did, it was because I was acting as someone else.

After that day, Sarah and Jannat came to visit me in the hospital quite frequently. When I was released, we started meeting up once every three months just to catch up and see what was new. It was nice seeing Sarah grow and even nicer seeing their happy little family flourish.

 

*****

I woke up that morning in my apartment with a horrible pain in my chest. My heart was in knots, my cheeks were damp, and my eyes were wet. I moved sluggishly onto my side and wiped my face. I dreamt of the accident again—but this time I remembered one key factor that made the memory just as hard push through.

Marco.

How was I able to forget everything I thought about right before hitting my head? Marco was my life, my _happiness_ …so of all things to forget, why did it _have_ to be him? Why couldn’t I forget my parents, or forget something trivial instead? Was someone upstairs playing some sick joke on me?

They say things happen for a reason, but was there really a reason?

I had to trudge through knee-deep water to be able to figure that out.

But when I did, the answer came naturally and things finally made sense again.

After spending a few minutes in bed, I opted to get up. There was no way I could fall back to sleep after dreaming of my accident—after remembering a _colossal_ part of it, in which revolved around Marco.

As soon as my feet touched the ground, Lucy came running up to me. Her tail wagged so fast that her little butt moved with it. I instantly smiled and felt my heart crack. She always knew the right time to come to me.

I picked her up in my arms and cradled the little dog, resting my head against hers.

“I’m okay. Really I am. It’s a thing of the past. I’m better now,” I assured her. But then my heart sank again. I thought about it. “I… I’m not okay.” Not until I’d remember Marco and his entirety. I wanted to remember him. I wanted to remember _us_.

I sighed. At least we were getting somewhere again. He and I talked quite frequently and started hanging out a lot more after confessing to each other. We were technically together, but took things one step at a time—which I didn’t mind. Personally, I liked it better that way. And whenever I’d do something that reminded him of us before my accident, he’d mention it. He would tell me all these stories of what we do back then and the funny things we had once said to each other. Listening to him was nice. I liked hearing all the details, which he’d give so beautifully. Though it was great, it was also pretty stressful, too. Not remembering the things he remembered so vividly, hurt like hell. It was a blow to the chest.

I was hopeful that one day I’d remember them again though, because I was already seeing signs of remembrance.

 

*****

I was sitting at my desk, staring out the window in a daze at the city. In a new word document, I had written:

_I never really thought about having a serious relationship, or at least this me hasn’t, yet._

_I never thought that the voice inside my head was you consoling me, pulling me along._

_I never dreamt that I’d have you back in my arms again, and that’s a fret I have met._

_I never dreamt that you’d capture me with your heart and want to start again,_

_Start again, even if we are just friends._

_But love works in mysterious ways._

_I’m beginning to stray._

_Your heart’s in my way,_

_And I have fallen as prey._

“Shit.” So much for not being into romances.

 _Marco will pay for this…Marcotholomew, that bastard_ , I mentally cursed. Was I really angry about it though? No. Of course not. I couldn’t be. Not at him.

The freckled _dork_ was busy that day and couldn’t come over, which flustered me, but I understood. He had long work hours that day and on top of that he needed to go back to his place and babysit his siblings. When I talked to him on the phone, he sounded tired.

“I’m sorry, Jean. I really am.”

“Why are you apologizing? I understand. Just get done what you have to, then catch some shuteye. I think you deserve that much after the schedule you have been running on lately,” I paused and thought about it. He would go straight to my place after he’d get off work and hang out for a while before heading home. All day he’d be busy running around. He needed some time to rest. “Marco, start going straight home after work again. Don’t come over for a few days. You need to catch up on your sleep.” I heard the man sigh on the other end, so I hurriedly added, “I’ll come and visit you while you’re on your lunch break. We’ll hang out then.”

“Really, I’m ok—”

“If you keep it up, you _won’t_ be. Just do this for me, please? It’s all I ask.”

It was momentarily still on the other line. With a small unhappy groan, Marco asked, “Do you need me to send you my work schedule?”

I grinned against my phone. “Yeah. That’d be great.” After writing down his hours, I hummed happily at it. I felt accomplished. “Cool. I’ll stop by tomorrow at twelve.” I heard Marco stir on the other end. I wondered what he was doing. I didn’t like that I couldn’t see what he was up to.

“Jean…I wish I was with you right now,” his voice was soft and angelic. “I could really use your hugs and kisses.”

“For you to be so upfront _must_ mean you’re exhausted,” I chuckled gently, feeling my neck and ears warm. “But I wish I was with you right now, too. Hang in there, okay?” I paused. “You’re off weekends, right? Do you want to come over Friday after work and spend the weekend with me?”

“May I? I’d really like that.”

“Of course,” I answered. “But know you’ll be resting a lot too while you’re here.”

“That’s fine. At least we’ll be together.”

I brushed a hand through my hair, my heart throbbing. _He’s so cute._ “Yeah.”

Marco and I talked for a while after that, before he would have to leave for work. I felt so bad. He sounded so sleepy and had said he had hardly gotten any sleep the night before because his siblings were up late again.

Those damn little _hooligans_ draining my Marco’s energy…

They’ll pay one day.

After I got off the phone with him, I got back to writing. At first, I wasn’t all too sure how I’d get my feelings across, but after playing around for a few minutes, I finally came up with a little something:

 

Running through a haze that lingered thick in my mind, I encountered the most beautiful set of eyes one has to offer. They weren’t just any eyes, but _his_ eyes, which made them ten times as special. They were the eyes I once remembered so clearly, the eyes I had also forgotten, and now the eyes of hope and new beginnings. I had fallen in love with him—and fell in love again without knowing, without _realizing_ it. It only took a little more than a month for it to happen again, but I couldn’t fight against the embers that sparked into a hungry flame. Some things come quicker than others. And since _we_ already happened, there were still shards of our past relationship that remained. The passion and love he felt— _still_ feels—hasn’t wavered since that day, since the day of my accident.

Some strange fate brought us back together again and _that_ couldn’t be ignored.

 

******

The week surprisingly passed quickly after that. Monday was the day I told Marco he could spend the weekend with me. Tuesday, I talked to my older sister on the phone and caught her up to date on things. I told her about Marco and she literally _grinned_ over the phone at the mention of him. She was so happy him and I were talking again, though I could only remember bits and pieces of our past together. She said her and I have to get together and talk more about it one day. I agreed to that.

Wednesday, Bert and Reiner came into town and spent most of the day at my place. They said how they were looking for a flat in Trost and wanted my advice on it. The thought made me really happy. They were two of my good friends from Shiganshina that I used to hang out a lot with the last few years of living there. To hear they were looking for a place nearby got me smiling from head to toe. We could start spending time together again, which fuckin’ _rocked_.

Thursday, I spent the day cleaning my apartment. Levi, my publisher, would have been proud. Two things he hated more than a shitty story were filth and disorganization. He was constantly putting my rival, Eren Jaeger (who also moved to Trost with Mikasa and Armin), to shame whenever he would step into the company for a meeting with his folders and notebooks all out of sorts. Eren had told me a few times that Levi almost quit being his publisher because of how ‘unkempt’ he was. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. It was just like Jaeger to complain to me about our midget publisher. _Maybe if you organize your shit you wouldn’t get such an earful out of him_ , I thought.

Friday morning I ran out to Garrison Groceries and picked up a few things before Marco would show up at seven that night. When I got home, I put everything away, then took Lucy for a walk. She happily pranced around the dog park with her friends and made many new ones. I sniffled. My little girl was growing up far too fast.

By the time I got home and took the harness off Lucy, there was a knock on the door. I practically jumped out of my skin. _Already?_

“Coming!” I called out. I tossed the harness onto the coffee table in the living room, then belted to the front door. I ran my fingers through my disheveled hair and breathed a big breath in then out. I opened the door.

Marco stood admiring one of the pictures in the hallway, but immediately directed his attention on me when the door opened. His grin was as radiant as always, maybe a bit sleepy too. As pathetic as it may sound, I was totally smitten to him. Be it his dorky smile, his freckled skin, his inky-black hair, his fuckin’ _perfect_ personality. Marco, to me, was this walking, talking _sex_ _god_ …and lord, if you’re out there, help me, because the guy would definitely be the death of me.

“Hi,” he softly breathed. He readjusted the bag on his broad shoulder, but kept his honey-coated eyes pasted over at mine. He wore a plaid red button-down fleece, with dark jeans and tawny leather boots that reached a little above his ankles.             “Hey…come in.” I walked back into the apartment with my back to the man. As soon as we were behind closed doors, Marco grabbed me into his arms and rested his nose in my hair. The whisper against my forehead gave me chills, “Jeanie-Beanie,” he pulled his head back so he could give my face a onceover. He positioned his forehead against mine, our noses brushing in the process.

“Marcotholomew,” I contently sighed out. He gave me a grumpy face in return and arched a black brow at me.

“ _Jean_.”

“Fine, fine… _Freck-Specks_.”

“Much better,” he replied, before awarding me with a light, feathery kiss. When he pulled away, I forcibly pecked his lips a few more times just to remind him…

To remind him that what we were experiencing was the real deal.

He heartily laughed and embraced me tighter. Through a fit of giggles, he squeezed out an, “I love you, Jean,” while rubbing my back in an affectionate manner. I dug my face into the crook of his neck and kissed the sensitive skin there. He let out a wavered breath, his hands stilling against my back.

“Love you too, _dork_.”

Once Marco got all situated and put his bag in my room, I ordered takeout from one of the nearest restaurants. They were known for their food and held the best Trost had to offer. Marco had complained at first, saying it was too expensive, yaddie yaddie yada… In the end, he wound up ordering Chicken Alfredo with parmesan cheese. Like _hell_ did he regret it being pricy… Shit, I deserved a freakin’ _blowjob_ after the way his eyes lit up at the menu—which I didn’t enforce, of course. That would’ve been wrong. _Way_ too wrong…though it would have had its nice aspects. _I wonder if we did kinky shit back when we were still in high school,_ I pondered. As soon as the thought came, it left. His happiness was all that mattered to me. The sex wasn’t important—though it would’ve been nice.

 _You greedy bastard…_ I rested my head in my hands.

“Jean? What’re you doing? You should come sit down,” Marco called from the couch. He was lolled out across it, and peeked over the armrest and into the kitchen to see what I was up to.

I collected my thoughts and shoved every dirty back into the depths of my mind before wandering over to him. “S-sorry. I was trying to figure out what to make Lucy for dinner.” Okay, so I fibbed, but could Ihave said? Oh, I was just picturing you sucking my dick and _wow_ ; it was _really_ fucking hot?

I think not.

Marco laughed at that—not at my dirty thoughts, but at my comment concerning Lucy…because the last time I checked, Marco couldn’t read minds. “You’re dedicated if you’re willing to make her her own special meals.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “She’s about as human as a dog can get. She’s deserves the best.”

Marco heaved a sigh. A pinch of _something_ draped across his expression. Either way, pangs of guilt formed in my unsettled heart. _You’re kidding…right? He’s jealous of a dog?!_

And I was right. He was, even if it was just a little bit.

“I remember when you used to treat me like that. Not like a dog, but when you put me above everyone else,” Marco poked his tongue out at me, then dug his head into one of the pillows on the couch and lay flat on his stomach. “Lucy has taken my place!” The nutjob exasperated, before he pretended to sob into the pillow.

I arched a brow and shook my head at the sight. _He can’t be that jealous if he’s able to joke about it_ , I thought. Even still, it ticked me off, just a little.

I walked over to the couch and stared down at the man hiding his freckled face. He should’ve known better than to stick his ass up in the air. If there was one thing I always used to do whenever he was lying on his stomach, it would be—

Instinctively, I straddled the man and lowered my lips down to one of his ears. A smirk twitched onto my face. “Marco, if you keep this up, I’ll have to spank you just like the old days,” I purred, gliding my hands up along his clothed sides. It was a slow, torturous act that got the man below me to shiver. I only stopped when I encircled my fingers around his wrists that clung to the couch pillow. “Then you’ll regret feeling jealous over a _dog_.”

Both surprised and embarrassed, he gasped. “I-I don’t know if I should be happy or angry at you right now!” I don’t how he did it, but he managed to flip positions with me. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t keep up. The next thing I knew, I was on my back gazing up at a man whose eyes glowed brighter than day itself. His smile was the sun. “As much as I want to hit you, I want to kiss you, too. That’s the second time this week you remembered something.” Marco then leaned over and pecked me gently along the lips. Though short-lived, it was perfect. It was warm and light and turned my insides to mush.

“I guess I really am remembering,” the thought got my heart pumping. “Slowly but surely.”

Marco nodded, nuzzling his face down against the crook of my neck. He breathed a sigh of relief and gave me goosebumps when his breath hit my exposed skin. We lay like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence. I rubbed his back while he rubbed circles against one of my shoulders. Feeling totally at ease, I calmly but tentatively asked him something I was meaning to ask for a while, but never got around to it—rather, I didn’t know when the right time would be to discuss it. Sure, it wasn’t an easy question, but I needed to bring it up before it’d eat away at me.

 _It’s probably going to upset him_. I exhaled.

I stopped rubbing his back and instead positioned my hands into his hair. I brushed my lips against his hairline, pressing a few chaste kisses against it. I then asked the inevitable.

“Marco…back then, why did you stop coming to see me in the hospital? I mean, I understand that you and your family had to move and all, but…couldn’t you have come to visit me on the weekends once you were all settled down again?”

Marco’s hand that was massaging my shoulder faltered.

There was more silence for a moment or two, until, “I…I wanted to, but I was a coward.”

“A coward?”

“Yes… I was afraid of breaking down in front of you,” he snugged closer to my neck and talked against my goosebumped skin. “The doctors told me not to mention the amnesia to you. They said you could potentially experience depression or become suicidal. That and it’d be harder for you to get better if you were constantly worrying about the memories you were missing—which I could totally understand, so I decided to cut ties until we were both mentally and physically stable enough to talk again…” his voice waned, “but that never happened because—because t-they…” he sat up and scooted to the far end of the couch. He hugged his legs up to his chest and hid his face against his knees.

“They? Who Marco?” Curiosity got the best of me, enough to press the issue further, though my boyfriend was obviously struggling to get the words out. I sat up and moved beside him. I draped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. I brushed my lips against his temple and whispered a gentle reminder, “I won’t be mad at you if that’s what you’re thinking, Marco,” I kissed his temple and rested my forehead against the side of his head. “It was long ago. We’re together now, that’s all that matters.”

The man next to me sniffled and nodded lightly. He lifted his face from his knees and looked at me. His eyes were a little damp. “They… _your parents_ , called me while they were still on their business trip and said that they heard what happened, that your sister called them,” his honey-brown orbs intently studied my face, then dropped to the couch cushion. “They placed the blame on me and said that if I hadn’t encouraged you to become an author, you probably wouldn’t have been on that train heading to the university. They said…” his voice cracked. You could clearly see the hurt spreading across his face. “They said anyone could become an author and that it was a stupid thing to pursue.” After that, Marco stood from the couch and turned away from me, shaking his head.

I stood too, but wasn’t sure if I should follow him. Marco needed some space.

“They decided over the phone that they wanted me to leave the hospital and never show my face around you or your family again—that I was a bad influence—and, as your mother put it, ‘the upper class has no time for _scum_ , so that means no time should be wasted on _you_ ,’ meaning _me_.” His shoulders began to quake.

 _Pissed off_ was an understatement at that point. I was _infuriated_ ; I _loathed_ my parents with every ounce of my body. I really did. For them to say that sort of shit to one of the sweetest, most considerate, guys on Earth was truly sickening. It was unnerving and totally unnecessary. It made me want to vomit pure acid. No joke.

Marco finally turned around when he heard me pacing back and forth, cussing violently under my breath.

“J-Jean?” he softly called to me.

“I can’t fucking _believe_ them! They’re total douchebags! The lowest of the low,” I raised my head and glanced over at the concerned Italian. I made haste when walking over to him and looked him firmly in the eyes. When I reached him, I placed my hands on his shoulders and stared up at the gentle man. “Marco, never _ever_ left shitheads talk down to you again. You’re too good for that. You’re strong, handsome, kind, loving, well-deserved, and hell-of-a-lot more,” I cupped the sides of his face and couldn’t stress the point enough. “You have worked fucking _hard_ to get where you are today, have you not? For you to even live in the _suburbs_ , in the _city_ , you have worked some serious hours and have had a ton of jobs just to make your family’s dream come true. Fuck wealth! You did it for _happiness_ ; your _family’s_ happiness! You didn’t just pull the money out of your ass. You _worked_ for it, and that aloneshould make you the wealthiest person alive.”

I pulled him to me then and squeezed him tight. “You’re not scum, Marco… You never were, you aren’t now, and never will be. I know that for a fact. So please, do me a favor. Promise me that you’ll do what _you_ want to do and not what _others_ want you to do… Follow your gut because your heart can lie.”

The speed that the words had come pouring out of my mouth was unbelievable. It had been a long time since I had spoken that much at once. By the time I finished, I was winded. I dropped my head onto Marco’s shoulder and pressed my body against his. His hefty figure steadily slackened against my slender form. When he wrapped his brawny arms around me though, I suddenly forgot that Iwas the one comforting _him_. The way he was holding me…it gave off a sense of security, something I hadn’t felt since the day Marco and I started hanging out again.

With his lips in my hair, he told me, “It has taken me five years to finally realize that. I don’t think I would’ve come to my senses if you hadn’t been the one to say it, so thank you, Jean. You have woken me up.” There was a distinct smile in his voice.

“Anytime, buddy,” the corners of my lips fleetingly curled. “I just want you to know that you’re perfect the way you are. I’m sorry my parents were total douches to you. If I could, I’d beat the assholes into the ground and—”

“Stop,” Marco hushed me and squeezed me closer. “Don’t let them get to you. It happened five years ago. What’s done is done. What they said shouldn’t matter anymore. You and I are together again, that’s what’s important.”

I sighed against his shirt. “I don’t talk to them anymore. There’s no point. I ha— _strongly dislike_ them. They have caused me nothing but pain throughout my whole entire life,” terrible memories invaded my mind. My eyes glazed. Suddenly, Marco didn’t seem so close. “I still have nightmares about it, Marco…you know, about them.”

He rubbed my back, but pulled his head away so he could look me over. “I’m here. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say, if you ever want to talk about it.”

I nodded. That was one thing I loved about Marco. He wouldn’t sugarcoat things. He said things for how they were. He made no empty promises and was very faithful to his friends and family. He wouldn’t say, _it’s okay_ , unless he truly thought the outcome would be alright. He was good like that, though sometimes I wished he’d lie and tell me what I wanted to hear, rather than the straight up truth. If I asked him to, I’m sure he would just to make me feel better, but it wasn’t something that’d make _him_ feel better.

The two of us sat on the couch again. I told Marco about some of the nightmares I had had recently about my parents and what they had done to me. Marco somberly listened and nodded at times where he found it to be necessary. I poured my feelings out to him, and afterwards, I felt great—like I dropped this heavy load off my shoulders. So much so that I fell across Marco’s lap and started hysterically laughing at literally _nothing_.

“Jean? Are you okay?” His brows apprehensively furrowed, while his eyes probed me for answers.

“I’m great! I just got all that shit off my chest. Now I can finally enjoy our weekend together,” I grinned up at him and poked his freckled cheeks with my forefingers. “So turn that frown upside-down, Marco! Let’s enjoy the next few days, hm? We freakin’ deserve it.”

His puzzled expression instantly transformed into something cheerful. His eyes lit up and his smile was big and bright. He rapidly nodded down at me. “Yes, let’s have a good, worriless weekend!”

Our dinner came another twenty minutes later. I wound up ordering the same as Marco since I couldn’t choose what to eat. It was delicious and from the look on my boyfriend’s face, he loved it too.

We ate at the dining room table and talked about the little things. To me, the conversation was exceptionally important, because we were chatting about the past, the _good_ portion of the past. My attention was focused solely on Marco as he brought up old memories to me. At one point he was laughing so hard that he had to bite down on his fork to keep from doubling over. It was _adorable_.

“Oh, and you know what you did to me on Valentine’s Day of our sophomore year?”

“What?” I had my chin rested in the palm of my hand and listened with a smirk.     

“Well, first I woke up to my mom grinning suspiciously at me. She told me to go into the dining room for a minute, so I did—and I could not believe what I saw. On the table was this crystalline vase with a dozen red roses and baby’s breath. It was so beautiful,” he blushed and ran his fingers through his hair. He shyly averted his gaze for a moment just to find it returning to mine. “There was a little card attached to a ribbon wrapped around the vase that said: _Happy Valentine’s Day, Marco. There’s more to come, so you best be ready, Freck-Specks! Love you, dork. Jean._ ” He chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully.“And you say you aren’t a romantic! Well, that’s a load of _bull_ if I have heard some before, because every Valentine’s Day you proved otherwise.”

He took another bite of his food, then continued with a goofy grin. “Then, during lunch, you serenaded me in front of the whole entire cafeteria! You sang the song Bang Bang with Connie and Ymir. You serenaded me; Connie serenaded Sasha, and Ymir serenaded Christa,” he cracked up again and shook his head. “We were the gossip for a week after that.”

“No way. I did that? That’s freakin’ awesome! I can only remember Connie and Ymir doing that, but that’s hilarious that I was in on it, too.”

“Yeah, it was really funny. I think I may actually have it on my phone now that I think about it! Armin recorded the whole thing,” Marco pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. “If you listen carefully, you can hear Eren laughing his rear off in the background and Mikasa telling him to be quiet because she wants to hear.”

After a minute of searching, Marco found the video on his phone and turned the volume up to its highest. He handed it to me, then pressed play.

I watched it in awe, but felt an empty feeling emerge in my chest. I felt almost…lonely and jealous of the Jean in the video. The way he was able to make Marco lit up and laugh was something truly admirable. I was able to do the same things he could—but there was something about my angel’s face that was brighter in the past then it was since we hooked up again, and I couldn’t figure out what it was no matter how hard I looked.

Towards the end of the video, I gave Marco a present and a kiss before sitting down beside him. It cut off there. I stared at the play button for a few brief moments before handing it back to Marco.

“What did I get you?” I asked with a small smile.

“Ah, _that_. W-well, it was a little silly, but,” he looked away and rubbed his neck, “it was a promise bracelet. It was a stainless steel bangle with an infinity symbol engraved on the front and our initials engraved on the underside. I have worn my every day since the day you gave it to me, even after your accident.” He rolled up his sleeve and displayed the bangle wrapped around his wrist.

My eyes widened. “That’s what that was! I have one, too,” I leapt up from the table and darted out of the dining room, into the living room, and into my bedroom. I grabbed mine off of my dresser and put it on, a huge smile inching its way along my face. I ran back out of the bedroom and called out with Lucy attacking my bare feet, “I have been wondering about this little guy since my accident. I had no idea where it came from and couldn’t remember getting it, but when I saw it on my wrist in the hospital, I really liked it. Whenever a nurse tried taking it off so they could take blood, I’d get really defensive and would start yelling at them.” I laughed and stared down at the stainless steel. “I wore it every day for three years straight—then I lost it. It fell off while I was out grocery store shopping one day, and shit, I panicked.”

I sat back down at the table and looked over at Marco and chuckled at his shocked expression. “I went back to the store as soon as I noticed I lost it and searched the whole place but still couldn’t find it. Conveniently though, I found the manager and asked him to keep an eye out for a stainless steel bangle and to let all his employees and staff know, too. I gave my phone number and everything.”

I paused to take a few bites of my meal, leading Marco to do the same. After a sip of water, I continued. “For the rest of the day I felt so freakin’ empty. I don’t know, the bracelet really grew on me and now it makes sense why. Anyway, that night was terrible. I could barely sleep. I had put my phone on the highest volume so I could hear it if it was to go off. I waited and waited until I finally fell asleep due to a lake of sleep.” Marco’s eyes were big and curious as he listened.

“Well, get this: The next morning, my phone goes off, and, sure enough, it was the store calling to say that they found it. One of the employees found it under one of the selves in the cereal aisle. Okay, so after hearing that, I literally leaped out of bed, got dressed, and drove to the grocery store as fast as I could.

When I got there, I ran into the place and over to the manager that was standing with one of the cashiers. I thanked him and even gave him ten dollars because I was just felt so damn happy. So after that I started wearing it less because I was afraid of losing it again. I usually keep it on my dresser or nightstand now-a-days. When I’m wearing it, I’m constantly checking to make sure it’s still on my wrist.”

I was scanning my eyes over the bracelet and thinking about the initials on the flipside. “I always wondered whose initials were engraved next to mine… I’m happy to know they belong to someone I really love,” my face warmed. I couldn’t bel—

When I looked up, Marco was gazing over at me with tears brimming in his kind eyes. His lips were curled up into a colossal smile that was pointed directly at me. A fluttery feeling developed in the pit of my stomach while my heart played a game of jump rope.

“After all these years…y-you kept your promise,” his voice cracked. “The day of your accident, you promised me that we’d always be together…and even after f-forgetting me, y-you… _you_ ,” he stopped and covered his mouth. Droplets of water fell from his compassionate eyes and rolled down his rosy cheeks.

There was an ache in my heart I just couldn’t shake. I stood from the table and walked over to him. I leaned over and embraced the angel. He wept against my shirt and continuously shook his head. His words were faint, but I heard them loud and clear.

“J-Jean, you still remember me… Five years and you _still_ remember me,” He wrapped his arms around the small of my back and took a deep breath. “I’m just hiding beneath the surface is all. Come and find me, okay? I don’t care how long it takes; just find me.”

“I will…and I say that with absolute confidence. No empty promises.”

“Good,” he laughed lightly. “I’ll be waiting. All of me, not just this half of me.”

I gave him a tight squeeze and smiled into his black hair. “And I’ll be there to remember all of you, not just our newest memories, but every last bit of _us_.”

From that day on, I’d never take off my bangle ever again. I’d take the risk of losing it a second time just so I could show it off to the world around me—to show that I have fallen in love twice with the same person without even knowing it, and to show that we found each other again.

Fate was working in our favor.

 

*****

We finished eating our meals and got changed into more comfortable clothes. We crawled up onto the couch and watched a few movies together. After the third, exhaustion kicked in. Marco’s head was rested on my shoulder when I poked him to say that we were going to bed. He sleepily nodded, then got up after my lead. I scooped Lucy up in one arm and guided Marco by the waist into the bedroom with the other.

I lay the pup into her bed and covered her up before standing back up to see Marco swaying on his feet with his eyes closed. He was worn out. All those long hours at work finally caught up to him.

I grabbed Marco’s hand and walked us over to the bed. “Come on, babe. It’s okay to lie down.” He curled up under the comforter and I followed lead. I covered us up after Marco wearily scooted over to me. I draped an arm over his stomach while I tucked the other under my pillow; he copied my position and smiled at me half asleep. Our legs tangled and our cold feet touched.

I smiled back at him, then showered his face with kisses. I kissed his jaw, his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corners of his eyes, his forehead, and his chin. Last, I brushed our lips softly together, placing a few lazy kisses onto his. He lovingly chuckled and caressed the small of my back.

“Goodnight, Freck-Specks. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanie-Beanie. Goodnight.”

After only a few minutes of silence, we fell asleep. Neither of us had nightmares.

.

.

.

The rest of the weekend went by slowly, which was a great relief. We were able to spend a lot of time together and catch up on a lot of sleep. By the time Monday rolled around, Marco was at his fullest again. He didn’t like leaving, but knew he had no choice in the matter. The man had a family to support and a job to attend.

But that weekend wouldn’t be forgotten, especially after all things I had remembered and all the things I had been reminded of. And if I was to ever get lonely, all I’d have to do was look down at the stainless steel hugged around my wrist and remind myself that I wasn’t alone—because my Marco, my other _half_ , would always be a part of me. No matter the distance, I knew in my heart that we’d always be close, even at afar.

The day of my accident, I promised Marco we’d always be together no matter what.

Five years later, our hearts and souls were still together…still together and _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out! I tried so hard... ;_; I made it long though, so I hope that'll make up for its lateness!  
> It's kind of like a two-in-one; Jean's train accident, Marco sleeping over. ^^


End file.
